


Waltz #2

by irolltwenties (Shenanigans)



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, character study the second, failed, i dont know dude, maybe? - Freeform, tried to write something sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 10:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenanigans/pseuds/irolltwenties
Summary: Just a sticky morning of hope and pretend





	Waltz #2

The light was different and Michael could only blink twice, confused before the hand on his hip felt real. This was not his bed. This was not his airstream. This was not his life that he woke up to, golden light sticky like cats cradle between the mangled twist of his fingers as he stretched. It was lugubrious and warm, fitting together like a memory. 

“You’re awake,” Alex murmured, voice soft with sleep and it was like Michael could feel it in his lungs- inhaling it. He felt the way his eyes burned, biting at his bottom lip before turning and letting himself sink into this- into the way Alex looked in the daylight. The way his black hair caught both red and blue highlights, skin an impossible golden. He was limned with light, the fine hairs on his arm glowing and Michael exhaled like a gutshot. 

“Jesus, Alex.” Michael arched his back slightly, feeling his muscles groan and twist as he fell back, hair scrubbing against the simple cotton pillowcase. “You-”

Alex was on his side, propped up on an elbow with his temple against his fist. He was stunning, mouthwatering, and somehow soft under the angles of his bones. The walls were a simple white plaster, cut through with heavy beams of wood that slanted to two windows sitting shoulder to shoulder at the corner of the room. The curtains half drawn, letting the late morning light slink across the floor boards to slide into bed with them, warm and light fingered. Alex tossed him a quick close mouthed grin, eyebrows quirking- showing off that old scar that tilted across his forehead. “I’m tired, Guerin.” 

“I’d hope so,” Michael managed, smile taking a quick side step into simmering hot, eyes traveling to where the red marks across Alex’s collarbones were starting to fade. Alex rolled his eyes, not moving from where he was letting himself just look- just stroke over Michael like a physical touch. Michael stretched his feet, shifting under it like a lazy cat. He touched his top lip with his tongue, considering before turning and slipping his knee between Alex’s thighs, pressing the arch of his foot to the back of his calf. His adam’s apple still fit perfectly between his lips, just breathing out as he felt the other man swallow. “Are we gonna talk about this?” he let himself ask, voice going quiet and unsure even as he reached, reached to touch the small of Alex’s back and pull him close. The soft hair on his stomach tickling MIchael’s skin and the warm heat of his skin pressing together with each breath. “Cause we could.” He shrugged, coming up for air to hold Alex’s eyes in the growing light. They seemed so dark until he was this close, noses sliding just slightly as their foreheads touched; like this- up close and out of focus, they were golden. “If you want to.”

“Guerin,” Alex’s voice cracked and Michael was thinking about that time when they were 17 in the tool shed when he’d been playing and Alex had leaned back with a light hearted laugh and started singing. Michael had almost fumbled the chording, shocked at the soft sweet sound of it, lower than he’d expected and yet somehow velvety perfect. Alex had opened his eyes to smile into the chorus, stuttering around the way his voice cracked and he flushed hotly. 

Michael rolled, tipping Alex back into what was obviously his bed. The sheets smelled like him, that stupid cheap green shampoo that left Michael’s hair a frizzing mess, not enough conditioner to maintain the curls. It smelled like his deodorant. It smelled like his skin, like the sex still tangled in the sheets that had dumped half onto the floor. It smelled like something more perfect than a home. Alex had a way of going still and wide eyed that always tightened something hot and dark in his gut; the way he would consider Michael for a moment, wondering and off center before just exhaling soft and settling into touching him like a cup into it’s saucer. “We could do that thing where we pretend this isn’t the most important thing in the world,” Michael continued, undaunted by the way Alex groaned into the words as he pressed them to the soft skin at the divot of his jaw. “We could pretend that I don’t love you and that this is just something that happens to us.” 

The world kept turning outside, the sky lightening over the mesa to something bright and cheery as Michael kissed the length of Alex’s neck, feeling into the moment Alex’s fingers clenched into his curls and tugged, breathless on a sound that could have been a groan or his name. Somewhere just past his fingertips was their history. Somewhere just past the windowsill sat the world he didn’t want to see right now, not when Alex’s thighs felt right slotted around his hips.

“We could just pretend?” He hadn’t intended it to be a question, but it broke in his chest and he could only stare, stare at the way Alex’s hair was a mess on the pillow, the way his mouth was swollen red from kisses he would tuck away like a secret in his heart. “Couldn’t we?” He rolled his hips, hissing through the way Alex swore and hooked his heel at the back of his knee. He could feel Alex hardening against him and he had to close his eyes. The world was too close.

“You could call me Michael,” he breathed, pleading. “You could call me Michael and it could be just this, just us like this. Nothing but you and me and this _thing_ that’s between us.”

“Gue-”

“Michael.”

And he knew the moment Alex relented. It was spectacular- the smile breaking over his face, creasing the corners of his eyes as he tucked his tongue behind his teeth. It felt like heartbreak. It felt like a hammer. “Michael.”

Michael was used to pain; what broke him was something soft and sweet as his name on Alex’s smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Come flail with me [here.](http://irolltwenties.tumblr.com)That would be rad. (Please do. I love to flail.)
> 
> This fic now has a [gifset by the stunningly talented Amanda.](https://bisexualalienblast.tumblr.com/post/186949610983/cosmic-love-exchange-2019-waltz-2-by)


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